Ingenium
by SnarkyScribe
Summary: In the aftermath of the Reach invasion, while Tim Drake struggles with the physical and emotional toll of living a vigilante night-life, political interference in the Justice League's activities forces him to take a more active hand in the Team's management and, as a result, realize that not everything is as black and white as he originally assumed.
1. Trigger 1-1

**Trigger 1.1**

The night sky loomed above, the inky expanse of endless abyss and its sparkling stars obscured by the dense fog of clouds, through which rain fell with a vengeance. I stood on the ledge of the rooftop, binoculars raised to my eyes, taking in the building before me for the final time.

 _Study it. Know my role. Work with it._

A gang-banger Batman and I had caught had been 'enticed' into giving up the location of an arms deal that was supposed to go on that night. What had tipped us off as to the existence of the deal in the first place was a shipment of weapons that Nightwing had caught onto last time he visited the city. He couldn't exactly manage to do _much_ , facing down a small army of heavily armed men, but the gang escaped with just barely half of their original cache. A small win, but a win nonetheless.

The problem was, the little the gang escaped with was still enough to cause a lot of trouble, bumping themselves up on our list of priorities.

Of course, they didn't immediately jump into action, or start looking for buyers. They were, apparently, smarter than that. They kept a low profile and hid themselves well. We couldn't track down their members to a group large enough to bust _and_ draw down their numbers, and we didn't want to explicitly hunt them down while they were so spread out.

Not because we were afraid we wouldn't have gotten them all.

No.

The thing about humans was that we tended to revert to the primal behavior instilled in our brains when our world got turned upside-down, when our status quo got broken. Behavior hard-wired into our genes after centuries of our ancestors continuously surviving whatever messed up threat life threw at them.

They got desperate, and they got scared. They stop thinking rationally, and they begin to react accordingly. Predictably.

If we started to hunt the gang down, their status quo would've gotten broken, and they'd revert to that same instinctual behavior. But, then they'd become desperate, which was essentially the last thing we'd have wanted them to be.

Not while they still possessed all those weapons.

Pouring rain bred a cold breeze that swept across the rooftop, stirring my cape, sending it flapping in the wind. Icy, cold pellets of water stabbed against my skin. It soaked my hair. My costume.

I wiped droplets of water off the lens of my binoculars before holding them up to my eyes again.

The local gangs were getting itchy, more so, ever since word got out that the Batman was gunning for Falcone. They were looking to make a play for power and, for that, they needed resources, and they needed members, and they needed to build up a reputation for themselves.

 _"Gang politics"_ , Dick had called it once. I wasn't still sure I agreed on that exact terminology.

One of the visible guards reached into his pocket and pulled out a walkie-talkie. I noted the time it took since his last sixteen check-ins, and calculated the average.

I lowered the binoculars and mentally ran over the number of guards and where they were positioned, probability of civilians getting involved in the potential crossfire, and the possible escape routes in the building for the people inside. I counted two men at the entrance of the garage, where the deal was going on, failing to casually conceal the AK-47s on their persons; the dock-workers had most likely been bribed, or threatened, so there was a slim chance of their involvement; and, there was only one way out of that warehouse, and it was the same way I was going to get in.

Lightning flashed with an intensity that purged the city of its darkness, albeit momentarily, and the rain continued to pour over the city with a roar. Unrelenting, powerful.

I disassembled the pair of binoculars, reattached the pieces to my belt, then produced my grappling gun.

My plan was simple:

Head in. Disable the weapons and, in turn, upset their status quo. Head out.

Nothing _too_ ambitious. It was practical. I knew what my strengths were, and I cut my cloth accordingly. I wasn't a one-man army; I'd been a vigilante for little over two years, and I certainly couldn't take on a small army; especially not with the resources I had on hand.

Not that I wasn't _good_ , but being on the Team showed me that there were plenty other people with skills more suited for a brawl than I possessed.

So, I played more to my strengths. I was a good fighter, yes, but I was an even better planner. A strategist. I could plan, disrupt, and I could manipulate. It came easy to me.

I turned, raising my arm by a fraction, and pulled the trigger on the grappling gun. A thin, pen-like metal rod shot into the ledge of the roof, burying itself in the concrete. I took a second to make sure that the thin line of wire connecting the gun to the rod was present, and then I stepped off the roof.

The wind rushed against my face as I fell along with the raindrops, the pavement drawing nearer with each passing second. The line connecting the gun to the roof pulled taut, and I gripped the gun tighter, allowing it grant me the lifeline I needed to swing onto the side of the building. The rubber of my soles slammed against the concrete next to a window with a near-silent thud, and I let out a tiny grunt before holding the release button. The line began to lower me to the ground at a decent pace.

I landed in a puddle, water splashing where my boot met with asphalt. Another trigger push had the line zip back into the barrel of the grappling gun, snapped off from where it was connected to the anchor, and I turned to the warehouse. The ground was slick, but I managed to maintain my firm footing as I dashed toward the warehouse, concealing myself in the shadows the nearby buildings cast.

The men hadn't noticed me, which was good. I didn't intend on making a scene until I was sure that most, if not all, of the weapons were accounted for. They were fidgety, though. Afraid of a certain vigilante's visit. Expectant of it.

I couldn't blame them.

I drew a single birdarang and threw it. Then, I darted to blend into the shadows of another building.

The sound of the bladed projectile striking a window was loud enough to draw their attention, even over the rumble of thunder. Lightning flashed again, and I held my breath. One of them signaled to someone inside the garage, just out of my line of sight, and three more armed persons walked out. Two headed over to investigate the sound, while two stalked the opposite way, toward the side of the building I had been hiding beside just seconds ago. In each set, the guard in front had a flashlight sweeping the area before of them.

That was what I had wanted to ascertain. I had suspected there were more people guarding the entrance than the two I could see. I just needed to make sure before confronting them. To have all the facts before acting.

I wasn't worried about the birdarang, much. It was designed with an acid pocket, created specifically to dissolve upon impact, rendering it nothing more than a misshapen lump of dull-red metal. Unrecognizable in the wet grime. Unassuming.

I could've just used a rock, but I hadn't been able to find one light enough to throw the distance _and_ heavy enough to make enough of a noise to draw the guards' attention. If the ploy worked, they'd either take the deformed birdarang's appearance lightly, or may possibly not even notice it at all, or they'll expend resources trying to hunt down some 'wannabe vigilante' who they believe 'tried to get one over on them'.

Whatever the outcome, I could adapt, and I could capitalize on it.

Lightning struck, and thunder boomed, and I flinched. The flash had illuminated the area, and one of the guards had almost spotted me in the shadows.

She reached for her flashlight.

Annoyed, I pulled out the grappling gun and fired upwards. The anchor bit deep into the edge of the rooftop, and the line tightened. A split-second later, I had the line reeling in, jerking me away from the ground before the beam of light could focus on my position.

Couldn't fight just yet. Couldn't have them get desperate before I was ready.

I reached out and grabbed the ledge, bracing my foot against a windowsill. Using the momentum from the pull, a hand, and the leverage from the windowsill, I hopped onto the roof. The second my soles made contact with the rooftop, I broke into a run, pressing the trigger to release the line from the anchor, and attached the next anchor. Darting sideways, diagonally, I leaped off the building, aimed for the corner of the nearest roof, and pulled the trigger of the grappling gun.

The rain fell in crazy, chaotic drops, the gusting wind carrying them in wild vortices one moment and in diagonal sheets the next. I pulled against the line and twisted my body midair, changing the direction of my fall. Rubber soles landed on the platform of a window sill, and I kept my balance, pressing my back against the building's wall. I produced a batarang and-

Something moved in the corner of my eye. Dark. Purple.

I recognized it instantly.

 _No._

The sole guard at the entrance suddenly hunched over, dropping to his knees. The purple-clad figure stepped out of the shadows, aiming a crossbow at his downed form.

 _No, No, No._

I darted for the guard instantly, springing to the ground and transitioning into a roll, then a crouch. The second I was upright, the birdarang in my hand was hurled in their direction. The purple figure smoothly jerked to the right to dodge the projectile, barely offering me the courtesy of a glance. I jumped when I was within arm's reach of her, aiming a kick at her face. She had to tug her torso away from my swinging leg as it rushed past, just inches away from her nose, showing much less grace than she did when she dodged the birdarang. I didn't let the missed blow deter me, pulling my collapsible bō staff from its pouch, spinning back into the fray as soon as my feet hit the ground.

I extended the staff, pushing it against The Huntress' throat just as she held the tip of her crossbow against my forehead.

Cold wind howled past, and the Huntress' cape flapped carelessly in the direction it blew. Thunder rumbled again, drowning out the ravaging sound of rain hitting the street, roofs, cars. I inhaled slowly, clenching my bō staff tightly, fighting off the cold.

I was _drenched_ , shivering subtly. I was agitated, I was tired, and I didn't need to have to deal with the resulting drama from whenever Helena visited.

Ally, or not.

"Arrow versus stick. There's no contest here, Robin," she said.

I pulled the staff an inch away from her throat, and twisted the stem. Immediately, electricity began to crackle at the tip.

The Huntress flinched.

"Touché," she said.

 _Stupid, stupid move, Helena,_ I thought. _Stupid and impulsive. I had this raid planned out to_ avoid _confrontation_. _Do you even know what's happening in there? Why_ are _you even here?_

She aimed her weapon to the ground, holding it to the side- away from me, but I kept mine trained on her.

She gave me a condescending look.

As far as wildcards went, Helena ranked pretty high on the list, and it was a pretty lengthy list. Frankly put, Helena and Bruce weren't on good terms- which affected our relationship by proxy, and I didn't trust her enough to proceed without knowing exactly _why_ she was there. I wasn't in the mood to have to constantly have my eyes on her, trying to anticipate what stunt she was going to pull, while having to deal with the arms deal in the warehouse.

Speaking of which…

"He hasn't moved," I said, referring to the man she had shot. "And, I don't see the rest."

The Huntress looked past me at the unconscious man. She said nothing, gave none of her usual tells. Not that her tells have ever been reliable.

 _Tranquilizer bolts, then_ , I thought. _Playing by the rules this time, are we, Helena?_

I lowered the staff.

"I really missed you," Huntress said, dryly.

 _Of course you did_ , I thought. _Nobody humors you like I do._

"I don't exactly feel the same way about you, but since you're here..." I said, raising my gauntlet. I traced a finger along its surface, and the interface registered the motion. The holographic-user-display popped up, and I was quick to pull up a file I had on standby, in case I'd have needed to fill someone else in on what I was doing on the fly.

I'd anticipated that 'someone' to be the Commissioner, or Batgirl.

I flipped the file page to face the Huntress, so that I saw it in reverse. "We have approximately fifty more seconds before the guy you took out has to confirm his status, and then they'll send out a squad to gun us down, and-"

"No."

I stopped, abruptly.

" _No?_ " I said. "There's really no time for this."

She shook her head, "I mean, you're wrong. About what's going on. Not that that's a surprise."

"What are you talking abou-?"

"Forty-three seconds left, Robin," Huntress said, turning to the entrance. She stepped over the body of the man she had knocked out and replaced the bolt on her crossbow. "You want the whole story? Follow me."

"Trying your hand in illegal weapons trade, Huntress?" I asked.

"Funny."

 _Wasn't too far off the truth, anyway._

"Put yourself in my shoes," I said. "Would _you_ trust yourself?"

"If you're not going to listen," she said, "then, don't get in my way."

"I'm not going to let you go in there without telling me what's going on."

I saw her pause.

Thunder cracked across the sky.

"What do you know about the buyers in there?" she said.

 _The buyers_ , I thought.

She did her homework, this time.

"Absolutely nothing," I said. "Which was exactly why I didn't want to go in there, guns blazing. Thanks for effectively limiting my options, by the way."

"Not my problem if you're not flexible," she said, "If it makes you feel any better, Robin, I was expecting Nightwing to be here tonight. Not you."

"Thanks," I said, voice devoid of humor. "Spill."

"Let's just say that weapons aren't the only things being sold in there."

"... what?"

"Twenty seconds," she said.

I frowned.

"Now or never, Robin."

The Huntress turned at once, and vanished into the darkness of the warehouse.

Using the time constraint _I_ set to force me into making a decision.

Taking charge of the situation. Stealing the command from right under my nose.

I'd have been impressed, if I wasn't already annoyed by her presence alone.

With a birdarang in hand, the sky roaring above me, I went in after her.


	2. Trigger 1-2

**Trigger 1.2**

I'd taken a little over three steps in when I saw the Huntress dart sideways, out of my line of sight, and I did the same almost immediately. A burst of gunfire from within the warehouse announced a barrage of bullets whipping past us as we ducked away from the onslaught.

The first, guard, thankfully, didn't notice us as we slipped past a support beam, and then behind a metal shipping container, the dark concealing Helena and I, but he did track out our movement. I pressed my back against the cover and Helena did the same, fixing a bolt into her crossbow. For a brief second, I wondered what she'd done with the arrow she had in it earlier.

The interior of the building was darker than it was outside, without the moon and the lights from the city to compensate for the absence of the sun. I found myself squinting through the darkness, mentally counting down the seconds till my vision adapted to the lack of a sufficient light source. Still, I could make out the chrome red color of the metal container I hid behind, but just barely. I began to take slow, quiet steps to the edge, to see what else I could make out.

"Coast clear enough for me to take a shot?" she asked, whispering.

I peered past the wall. Though it was chilly, the man had on a sleeveless white shirt, the strap of his assault rifle visible across his torso as he slowly paced toward us, another assault rifle gripped in his hands. He had big, fit arms, a barrel chest, and an awkward gait- like he was trying to emulate how another person walked. Almost as if he was performing for someone.

My eyes narrowed behind my mask.

The building was still shrouded in darkness, but the movements in it were unmistakable. There were more people in there than the man with the rifle.

I raised my hand towards the Huntress, my index and middle fingers held together and pointed upward, the thumb held perpendicular to them, and the rest pointed downward. She nodded once, obviously very familiar with what the signal connoted, and readied her crossbow. I slipped a hand into the right pouch on my utility belt and fingered the birdarangs left in there.

 _Just enough._

I signalled for the Huntress to give me a boost, compensating for the darkness by making the movements of my hands more blatant than they usually would be, and pointed at the top edge of the container. She got the message just fine, crouching low and putting her hands together. I exhaled softly, then put a foot into her cupped hands, reaching out as I was pushed up, and pulling myself onto the top of the container. I took a second to make out my path in the darkness, and then started for the man. I heard the silent ' _thwip_ ' of an arrow being fired, and the bullets started flying again.

My movements were silent, stealthy, as I took to moving further into the warehouse, confident in my ability to remain hidden. True, the persona of Robin was somewhat _flashy_ and attention grabbing, but it helped more than it harmed. It was made to take the focus off Batman, allowing him to do what he did best, and, above all, it was made to remind the people we went up against that, despite what it seemed, the person behind the mask was a _kid_. Anything darker, and I could've gotten mistaken for Batman in the commotion, and would've gotten shot at without remorse. This way, I could take advantage of that very human part of my opponents that would cause that split second of hesitation they'd take before pulling the trigger.

And, when dealing with agitated maniacs with loaded guns, a split second could make all the difference between life and death.

Of course, with all that taken into consideration, I still had a couple of suits designed purely with the intent of subterfuge, for my more 'subtle' missions. This was one of them.

I kept to the shadows within the shadows, even as I bounded from container to ground, the cushioned soles of my rubber boots softening my impact and reducing the noise that could've been produced. I rolled along with the impact, settling in a position akin to a crouch, my back against the wall.

I could, now that I was deeper into the warehouse, make out about a dozen men, all armed with the same weapons, all ready to fire at the Huntress at a moment's notice.

I readied my birdarangs.

Fully embraced by darkness at this end of the warehouse and having the Huntress draw the men's attention, I was able to move closer, which meant that I could better make out the figures of the people I attacked. Drawing a birdarang out, I slipped out of the shadows and behind the man furthest away from the rest.

 _Engage. Disarm. Render inert..._

I glanced at the rest of the men, who looked like little more than smudges in the dark.

 _Repeat._

The Huntress had gotten closer, having taken out the first man in the sleeveless shirt by pinning his hand to the side of a container with an arrow. His scream of pain bounced off the walls, audible despite the torrential downpour just outside and the roar of gunfire. Bullets drummed against metal as she ran up the vertical surface of a large drum, and bounded off it, leaping back into the fray and tackling another man into the shadows.

In the pause his comrades took from shooting to ensure they didn't hit him, I attacked. I reached out and drew his shoulders back, bringing my knee up to force into his spine. His back arched visibly as he screamed out in pain, and I took that opportunity to maneuver around his figure, cutting the strap around his torso free with the birdarang and wrenching the gun away from his fingers. I moved quickly, tossing the gun to the side and throwing the batarang forward in a single motion. I didn't see whether it hit due to how dark it was, but I heard a grunt, and a sudden burst of gunfire a few feet ahead.

The Huntress got the message. A few seconds later, I caught the glint of the silverhead of an arrow speed by, and vanish into the dark again- right about where I'd thrown the birdarang. I rushed the man, jumping as soon as I was close enough and slamming my elbow into where I assumed his face would be. I got lucky, and he went down without much protest. At this point, the other men had gotten privy to what was going on. One of them turned in my direction and fired.

Unlike in the movies, AK-47s didn't actually produce sparks as they were being fired in real life. Not unless the barrel had a mixture of foulings of copper and lead and a bit of rust in it- most likely at the tip. That was the kind of situation that a gun that got fired _regularly_ without _regular_ maintenance ended up in, not one that was supposed to have been _recently_ shipped in, and _new_.

That said, I was fairly surprised when I caught the tiniest hint of orange erupt from the position of the man firing at me.

I darted at him, grabbing the rifle and diverting the fire upward. It would, no doubt, draw more attention my way, but I wanted to end this quickly. The longer I took trying to wrestle the gun away, the more it seemed that he'd be the one with it, in the end, so I threw my head forward. My forehead crashed into his mouth, and I felt a sharp sting of pain there, but I managed to finally pull the weapon away from his grip. As he staggered backward, I leaped and pushed both feet against his chest, throwing him into Helena's range, where she quickly dispatched of him with her bolts, one in each of his shins.

I rolled into a crouch, selected another birdarang, and assessed the situation.

 _Five men out of a possible eleven neutralized... Could there be more of them, somewhere around? Doubtful; I'd surveyed the area at least six times at several different junctures before I was forced to engage. Even if I'd missed something, Hele- The Huntress would've caught it, and rendered it inert..._

The gunfire continued, but none of the bullets got close enough to me to actually matter. I quietly took in a breath, then released it. I'd been in more dangerous situations than this, but staying calm while so close to a possible death, no matter what form it took, was something that I'd never quite gotten the hang of. It was easier to perform in front of others, to feign the courage one expected of a Robin, but right there, in the dark with no one to perform for, I found myself flinching at the sound of each bullet leaving the barrel.

Still, I remained calm, listened for footsteps, watched the movements as best as I could.

A man suddenly hunched over to a knee, his gun dropping from his hands and hanging off his shoulders, and another bumped against him. Then, I pounced. Using my running momentum, I drove my foot into the standing man's torso, forcing him back with a choked gasp for air and turned to the other man, sharply lunging forward and hitting him. The material of my glove prevented my knuckles from taking damage from the punch, but it did the man's face no similar favor. He staggered in his crouched state, arms flailing out as he fell onto his back. Hopefully, that would keep him docile enough for Huntress' tranquilizer bolt to kick in.

I followed the wheezing to the man I'd kicked. He hadn't recovered yet, which made retrieving his weapon and knocking him toward Huntress' range that much easier.

I appreciated how she stuck to the shadows, instead of joining me in the thick of things, drawing the bullets away from me with her arrows. Still, I had the nagging feeling at the back of my head that she was going to end up doing something more than unsavory before the night ended.

 _Seven do- Eight down. Three more to go._

The rest of the men were already starting to surrender; their gunfire was more subdued, not as frequent as it originally was. I was tempted to let Huntress handle the rest of them, while I headed off to check the rest of the warehouse for anything that could explain /why/ there was a squadron of men holed up in it, instead of the weapons trade I'd been led to believe was going to happen.

But, leaving her alone with them would have been cruel. For them.

"We've taken down more than half of your men in the span of five minutes," I said, my voice raised and artificially deepened. I wanted to sound like I was coming from a position of authority- which, in a way, I was. "If you don't surrender, right now, my partner here is going to do something very, very terrible to you, and I'm not sure I'll be able to stop her."

I held my breath for a second, two.

Four assault rifles were thrown forward. They skidded to a portion of the warehouse where the moonlight reached in.

"Good," I said. "Now, I want to see all of you."

One by one, three men stepped out into the light, all unarmed. I noticed that one was favoring his right leg as he walked.

I turned to Huntress. "Light? Please."

"Unless you missed a couple hiding in the corners, we got all of them," she said, then tossed something my way.

I stretched out a hand and caught it.

Night-vision goggles.

I let myself relax, slightly.

Groaning filled the air, I noted as I observed te aftermath. Most of the men were still conscious, but none of them classified as threats, at the moment. The Huntress stepped out of the shadows, brandishing a pair of handcuffs. She walked up to the first guy and forced him to his knees, securing his hands behind him.

"This is the part where you explain to me what's going on here," I said.

"Hm?" she said, feigning ignorance.

Annoying.

"Stop it."

"I'd been following the missing weapons for a while now, same as you," Huntress said, cuffing the third man. "I tracked the movement down to Hub City, but something came up while I was there, and it disappeared in the commotion. Out of options, I talked to Q, and-"

"Q?"

"The Question."

I raised my eyebrows. "Ah."

"He told me that he'd been investigating a new player; this guy, calls himself 'Titus. I didn't get much out of him, but it looks like this Titus guy's been building a small army. It looked like he was going to be setting up shop in Hub, and that drew Q's attention, but he's been keeping silent lately. Laying low."

"And, let me guess. Titus disappeared around the same time the weapons did?"

The Huntress made a sound of confirmation. "And I wasn't exaggerating when I said he was building an army. I've seen the footage of one of their rampages. He's got at least fifty members, all at least trained in basic hand-to-hand combat, all outfitted with some of the best combat gear I've seen in a while. Armor's almost weightless, but tougher than kevlar. The police department unloaded their cache into these guys, and got only one fatality."

I rubbed my chin, then discreetly signalled to the Huntress.

 _Batman. Is. There. Now._

She nodded, her head moving by only a fraction. "With an army and all those weapons suddenly missing, again, I headed back to Gotham, to see if you guys had any better luck."

My vision blurred for a second, and I blinked rapidly, then shook my head. The sting in my forehead had grown into a slow throb, and the warm liquid that inched down the cold skin there wasn't helping matters.

"You're bleeding," Huntress said, then looked away.

I gestured to the men. "Titus' guys?"

"Potential recruits, I'm assuming. The weapons aren't new, I'm sure you noticed. This was probably supposed to be an initiation meeting."

"And Titus skipped out on them," I finished.

The one in the middle scoffed. Now that he was in a bit of light, more visible than he was in the dark, I could get a better look at his features. A kid, no older than Huntress, even, dark-skinned, rough face.

"What's so funny?" Huntress asked.

I heard a screech of burning rubber just outside the warehouse. Car headlights shone through the doors.

I frowned, my hand reaching for my staff.

"When did you call the GCPD?"

I answered without taking my eyes off the lights. "I didn't."

"We were expecting The Bat," the kid said, "but I guess Titus will have to make do with you guys."

My eyes widened.

"Trap," Huntress breathed.

Before I could say anything else, the silhouette of a person appeared at the entrance to the warehouse, bigger, bulkier than the men we'd just subdued. He had something mounted on his shoulder that I couldn't quite make out, something cylindrical.

Something he was aiming at us.

The Huntress practically shoved me into the darker side of the building, right behind another container, and I caught a glimpse of her pressing her hands to the sides of her head. I turned, so that I'd land on my elbows, rather than on my back, and followed suit; covering my ears and shutting my eyes.

The blast tore through the right portion of the warehouse, and the shockwave ripped through my bones, throwing me further than where I'd intended to land. I tumbled on my side and stopped when I hit a wall, dazed and gasping for air.

If I remembered correctly, Rocket launchers were included in the number of weapons stolen.

Huntress was already pushing herself up, and she grabbed my arm harshly, pulling me along. A blistering inferno had been birthed in the wake of the explosion, slowly tarnishing the oxygen supply with its thick fumes. I couldn't make out the trio through the flames, but there was no doubt about whether they were alive or not. I forced through the pain in my muscles and pulled my staff out.

"Titus?" I asked.

"Definitely," Huntress said.


	3. Trigger 1-3

**Trigger 1.3**

The Huntress stepped out from the cover and fired an arrow out the entrance, into the light, in retaliation. A second later, something in the distance exploded, and she ducked back behind the storage container.

I blinked rapidly, trying to process what had just happened. Through the smoke and fire, I couldn't even begin to make heads or tails of how easily the men's lives were wasted, all because Titus wanted Batman dead. Meaningless deaths, all probably coerced or tricked into working for him.

A part of me believed I could've saved them, even if it was just one of the men. If Huntress hadn't pushed me, if I'd been a bit faster to react...

No. She saved me. I would have been killed alongside them if I'd attempted a rescue.

I forced myself to push that train of thought away, and focused on the situation at hand. Couldn't afford to distract myself.

Breathe...

In hindsight, I should've seen this coming. The clues, the hints that there was something more planned for that night, it all seemed obvious in retrospect.

The thick fumes from the explosion had extended to our side of the warehouse, eating away at our breathable air. As inconvenient as it was, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle, but the circumstances were limiting my available options. If Huntress' run-through on Titus was anything to go by then, at the moment, retreat was the best solution. The problem was that I had next to nothing regarding information on the situation just beyond the walls of the warehouse- making any form of leaving a risk, in case we were surrounded- and now, not only did I have to think quick, but I also had to do it with a slowly diminishing oxygen supply.

I fished out an artificial breather from my belt, held it out to the Huntress. She shook her head, turning away from me, her eyes on the other side of the warehouse; opposite where entrance was.

We moved as one, slowly putting distance between us and rocket man- who seemed to have backed away from the entrance and, as a result, was concealed in the glare of the headlights shining in.

The Huntress replaced the bolt in her crossbow, raised the weapon to aim at the wall.

 _These men were prepared to take on Batman, and I'm willing to bet that they are competent enough to have dealt some damage to him, had he been the one here instead. Had they accounted for me? Batgirl, Nightwing? The one possible spanner in the works, here, is Huntress, but I doubt her presence would turn the tides much... But, it does give me something to work with._

I tapped the panel on my gauntlet, sent a distress signal to Commissioner Gordon, and moved to stay Huntress' hand.

I suspected that the look she gave me then was an irritated one, though I couldn't make out her face in the shadows.

"These guys were expecting Batman," I said. "If the guy in charge is even half as competent as you said he is, then I'm guessing that the building was already surrounded before the man with the rocket stepped in."

"Then, why haven't they charged in, yet?" she asked, her crossbow still primed to fire.

"No idea."

"Hmph."

But, she lowered the crossbow.

 _Did you just listen to me? What are you really doing here, Helena?_

"What do you suggest we do instead, genius?"

I looked back at the smoke. It had spread through the warehouse, a thick fog, blocking the light from the entrance from reaching us. The heat prickled my skin, even as I stood several metres away from the spawned flames that didn't intend on dying any time soon.

"He shot away from us," I said.

"What?"

"The man with the rocket. When he fired, he didn't aim for us, not even at our general area."

"So?"

He didn't aim at _us_ , exactly. He wanted to hit us, definitely, but he _knew_ we'd be able to dodge... He... He aimed at us, but in a roundabout way?

I shook my head. "Nothing. I'll cause a distraction at the front, pull their attention, somehow. Use the confusion to blow your way out this way and I'll, in turn, use the confusion generated from _that_ to slip away. Rendezvous at the Batcave to compare notes?"

"You've been throwing yourself into the thick of things all night," Huntress said. "It's almost like you don't want me anywhere near these guys."

"You sound surprised."

"Here I was under the impression that we were bonding."

With a friendly scoff, I made my way to the single door of the warehouse.

I knew it would circle around to bite me in the butt, later, but it was for the best that I didn't tell the Huntress what I'd actually planned on doing.

I pushed past the choking fog of smoke, past the blazing heat, and stepped into the light, into the rain. Immediately, over a dozen armed men raised their guns at my presence.

I'd stepped out of the dark, my haven, and exposed myself to the opponent, made myself vulnerable, and the men around me believed they had me cornered. I could tell.

Perfect.

One of the men stood out, mainly because he was the only one not in the combat armor, and because, in the loose arc the men had formed around me, he was in the middle, directly opposite me.

I used my glove to wipe some rainwater off my forehead, barely wincing even as I accidentally brushed against my injury.

"Batman?" he said.

"Batman isn't here. I, however, am," I said, my voice conveying the confidence I was faking. "Quite the ploy you pulled just to get an audience with him, though."

I saw him frown in confusion for a second, then it passed, and his face returned to its previous, business-like expression.

 _Wondering if I know what you're up to, or if I'm being cocky and got a lucky break, aren't you? Wasn't too hard to figure out, what, with that sick attempt to turn our altruism and self sacrifice against us? Now, it's your move. How important is Batman's presence, right here, in your plans?_

"Think of me as his proxy," I said.

"Don't bother, your bullet ridden corpse will be enough to convey the message we wish to send," he said.

"Ha," I laughed. It came out as dry and bitter.

He folded his arms at his back. "Everything serves a purpose. This was to make a statement."

"And the men whose lives you just took? Where does that fit into?"

"Like I said, Robin, everything serves a purpose. This event was not orchestrated so that I could argue ethics with you. I suppose there's no beating around the bush now, seeing you've already figured out our intent, here. Let's get straight to the business, shall we?"

I remained silent, my eyes subtly flickering through the armed men. I counted six, all in the combat armor Huntress had talked about, their heads covered by helmets with tinted lenses.

Anonymosity.

True enough, with the exception of the different body builds, they all looked identical; a faceless army.

I started trying to figure out a way to get through their armor. It resembled reinforced kevlar, but it still found a way to fit their bodies in the way form-fitting clothes would. Most of them were bulky, sure, but still…

I rejected that theory. It wasn't kevlar, or it was just closely related to it, because the Huntress wouldn't have been stumped if it was.

"Robin," the man began, snapping me out of my thoughts, "we've come offer a gift."

He paused, waiting for me to give him a reaction, so I didn't.

"Information. Knowledge is power, after all."

"There's nothing you have that we need," I said, baiting him.

"So, you know of the man in the helmet."

I frowned at that.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"There's been a disturbance in the status quo," he continued. "A man in a red helmet, killing my men, going after their families. Innocent men, women and children. He wears the mark of the Bat, but operates like a serial killer. I believe it will be in both of our interests if he were to… disappear."

I saw what he was doing. Using Batman to get rid of the man hunting them.

"I don't know. It seems like you guys really pissed someone off. I don't think I should really get involved with this."

His eyes narrowed at me. "I suppose we'll have to convince Batman through other ways."

I kept on a smile, intended to infuriate him into action, like Dick would have done. If he was here.

I didn't bother trying to figure out what his last sentence implied. Assuming he even _was_ affiliated with the man who had taken on Hub city's police force, his threat sounded weak and wasn't worth taking seriously.

The man's lip twitched at a corner, and then he sighed. He pointed at me and shouted, "Get them!"

 _Them?_

I dropped a pair of pellets at the same time he had pointed at me, and they exploded, quickly blanketing the area in smoke. I ducked down, immediately getting on my hands and knees as the bullets began to fly, and began to crawl back to the safety of the warehouse. They'd moved before I could set my plans into motion, before I could gather enough information to act, and now I was trapped. The smoke wouldn't help much, even if they waited for it to dwindle before coming after me. I was still trapped, running low on batarangs. The gunfire lessened, and I took that as evidence enough that they'd started moving in, and I pushed myself to my feet, transitioning right into a run.

I felt a hand seize my wrist, and I kicked out in that direction. The hand let go, I heard the Huntress grunt, and she grabbed my wrist again, harder.

I felt it wasn't safe enough to even whisper an apology, so I kept silent as she dragged me further into the warehouse, then shoved me. My back hit a metal container, and she grabbed my hand again, raised it over my head, then held it against the container.

Oh.

I bent my knees, grabbed her waist, then hoisted her up into the air. A second later, the pressure of her weight on my arms disappeared and then I couldn't feel her anymore. I raised a hand, waited three long, tense seconds, then I felt her grab my wrist again, pulling. I grabbed onto the edge of the container to help stay off the ground, and the Huntress grabbed my arm and cape, fully hauling me up.

Higher above ground, now, I could see slightly better, and I turned to the Huntress.

"Smoke's making them nervous. They're vigilant, but they won't risk shooting and hitting one of theirs."

She simply nodded, then turned away from me, aiming for the men. She fired off, her arrow vanishing into the darkness, and I held my breath for a second, two.

The explosion was mild, compared to what I'd experienced earlier with the rocket, but it was strong enough that I could feel it in my bones. A blinding flash of light, for a second, illuminated the midst of the smoke, and I thought I saw the blast lift a man clear off the ground. A thud hit the side of the container in that same instant.

"Pull back!" someone shouted.

The gunfire would start again anytime soon.

"You were supposed to blow us an escape," I said.

"You were right. Titus' men have us surrounded. Could see them lurking around through a window. GCPD?"

"Should be on their way, but I don't think they'll be here anytime soon."

"The Team?"

"On a mission."

"Shit," the Huntress said.

Bullets began to drum against the metal of the container, followed by a number of shouts and commands I couldn't quite make out.

"And, they know you're here," I said.

"I heard."

I pulled another pellet from my pouch and tossed it into the smoke. "Too many people here, just for this job. Titus shouldn't have been able to expend this many members. He's not supposed to have this many."

"He does now," the Huntress said. "We have to move, brute force our way out before the rest can rally."

You always tend to take doors for granted until you get trapped in a single-entrance warehouse, surrounded by fully armed men wearing the kind of armor you'd normally see on soldiers, but bulkier. I was embarrassingly ill-prepared for a bout like this, having packed for a simple reconnaissance mission until the Huntress forced my hand, and I began to reconsider blowing a hole through a wall again. But, I wasn't stupid. Even if we didn't encounter the members of Titus' army ready to gun us down as soon as the walls crumbled, the men at the front would simply circle around and get us then.

Again, that was assuming the walls were blown down with no one waiting for us at the other end, which wasn't the case.

Reaching inside the pouches that adorned my belt, I began going through the items I had in there, simply for the sake of calming and forcing myself to focus. To think. How exactly could we get out of here, alive?

Lure them in, take them out, rinse and repeat?

I hated this, being trapped, forced to limit my options this drastically. _I_ was supposed to be the one doing the trapping.

"This has been a really stupid night," I said, holding out an artificial breather again. "Started when you showed up."

"Going in soon," the Huntress said, accepting it.

I waited for a lull in the gunfire, then pushed off the container, shoving my hands into the pouches of my belt and pulling out a birdarang for each. I flung them in the direction of the entrance, sticking my hand into another pouch as I fell. I hit the ground with a stumble, and collided with someone wearing thick armor. Before I could react, he grabbed me by my hair and collar, pulling and then shoving me out the warehouse's door, into the rain. I placed a hand against the ground and flipped with the throw, cancelling the momentum the push generated, my feet skidding across the wet ground.

He burst out of the smoke a second later in a sprint, a knife in hand. I pushed myself up in time to intercept his arm as he swung the knife, blocking his forearm with my raised elbow, then planted my foot against his chest and kicked, putting distance between us and giving me some room to breathe. I spun away from the confrontation and stared up at my attacker.

His knuckles were colored dark-red; a result of his fists constantly pummeling an object- or a person, a bruise was quickly forming around his right eye of his domino mask, right above the deep cut above his cheek, and a tuft of white against his dark hair. Moaning filled the immediate environment, but none of them came from him. Sprawled all over the ground, from where his feet touched the ground to, were about ten people- Titus' guys, each lying a puddle that was a mixture of their own blood and murky water, only very few still barely conscious. Joints twisted in ways they were never intended to, and a few fractions of teeth lay scattered across the ground- none of them his.

 _He beat Titus' men?_

I glanced around for hints that he had help, that there was someone waiting to get the drop on me, while still keeping an eye on him. He was tense, shoulders heaving, ready to move.

Attack or retreat?

As the fog began to vanish again, I took a more detailed look at him. He seemed to be wearing the same armor Titus' men had on, but in a darker shade. He wasn't as big as half of the men he'd beaten, his body more streamlined than bulky, trained to move quick, so the armor didn't fit him as well.

A wisp of smoke whipped past, then dissipated around his chest, and I caught the sight of a red bat spray painted on.

Ah.

 _Our friend in the helmet, without the helmet. Pleasure to meet you._

The Huntress leaped out behind him, vaulting onto his shoulders in a single bound and wrapping her thighs around his neck, twisting around him and making a grab for his arm, but he was quick, dropping to his arms as soon as she'd grabbed him. Huntress' back hit the ground as he crumpled, and I winced, pulling out my staff to join the fray.

To her credit, she didn't let go, crossing her legs even more tightly around his throat. He whipped out the knife, and in an instant, he had it in her calf. That was enough to get her to uncoil, rolling away from him in pain. He flipped onto his feet, twirling the knife in his hand, turning to me, all too familiar bloodlust glowing in his eyes. He blocked the my first strike with his forearm, then caught the stem of my staff, spinning in my direction, raised his leg to kick. I curved away from the hit, let go of the staff, moved in for a hit. He was faster, smacking my fist to the side with my weapon and lunged, slashing with the knife. I skipped back, clutching a shallow cut on my forearm.

"Pathetic," he said, walking forward, dropping my staff. "Your moves are textbook, slow, easily avoidable. Did you even bother improving yourself past anything he taught you?"

He threw, and I caught the blade by the handle, a centimetre away from my chest. He smiled at that, bending low, and pulled out a knife from his boot.

 _Not for throwing,_ I thought.

The Huntress had staggered to her feet at this point, her stabbed leg shuddering. The knife was still in it.

He gave her a glance, then spun, throwing the knife at her. She moved, raising her crossbow at him.

He dodged the crossbow bolt, but in doing so, stumbled into the path of a thrown batarang. The second he caught it, I slapped a button on my gauntlet, and it exploded in a spray of fireworks, disorienting him. Non lethal.

"Move!" I screamed at The Huntress. I stepped over a body, ran to the man.

He threw a punch, intended to ward me off than do any damage, but I sidestepped, slamming my palm into his chin. He stumbled back, dazed, attempted to hit me again. The blow meant for my jaw blurred past my face, and I hit him again. His nose crunched upon impact with my fist, his head whipping back, and I kicked, sending him to the ground.

Close enough to the door.

I hit the button on my gauntlet again, and the batarangs I'd planted on the warehouse's entrance earlier detonated, spraying the area with a combination of knockout and teargas. I stuffed the artificial breather in my mouth and grabbed the Huntress, pulling her away from the rapidly expanding cloud.

"Hrng," she grunted. "Bastard twisted the knife as he shoved it in."

When we were far enough from the teargas, I took out the rebreather and said, "Thanks for the assist."

"Did you get him?"

I looked back at the warehouse, at the thick cloud of gas, and somehow I knew that when it all cleared, I wasn't going to find him in there.

 _Beat up Titus' men, then took me in a fight?_

I took in a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down. The worst was over.

Eventually, the gas cleared, and the man was gone. Left in his place, instead, was an empty, bright red helmet.


	4. Trigger 1-4

**Trigger 1.4**

After a long night, we finally made it back to the Batcave.

Despite my injuries, I helped Helena limp to the infirmary unit first. I had one arm, while Alfred took the brunt of the work, dividing his focus between supporting her other arm, steadying her, keeping her moving and making sure her wounded leg didn't do too much work, to minimize the damage. It was a very uncomfortable and awkward series of stumbling and near falls, some of that due to my own limp, but it was effective. I helped stretch her out on the table.

"Tsk, tsk. Should've disarmed him first," I said. "He's a better fighter than your run-of-the-mill copycat vigilante, apparently."

"Funny," Helena said.

Alfred had already taken a knife to her leg, tearing off the cloth around it in strips until her blood stained calf was free, and then he moved to wash his hands. He was back less than a minute later, a dish of water and a rag in his gloved hands. He moved to wipe the area of the stab wound, cleaning off some of the blood that hadn't already dried, but the blood still kept pouring out.

I pulled off my gloves, made my way to the first aid kit. I needed some antiseptic and cotton, to tend to my injured forehead. It was throbbing, then, and I couldn't risk an infection.

"But, don't let me distract you," I said. "I believe you were just about to go into more detail about Titus?"

"Was I? I don't remember that. The blood loss must be fogging up my memory."

I started to point, to emphasize what I was about to say about her condition, then winced as pain shot up my side. I held back a grunt. The adrenaline my body had produced was beginning to wear off, and my injuries were catching up. My muscles ached all over, my head beginning to pound so hard I could barely see anymore. Helena had shielded me from the brunt of the explosion, but I'd still taken some damage. My arms had gotten burnt, and the flesh on that area had taken on an angry, red hue.

Alfred turned his head to face me and slightly raised an eyebrow. I shook my head, and he promptly returned his focus to Helena.

"This is quite unlike you, Miss Bertinelli" he said, slowly straightening Helena's leg. "And why, if I may ask, are you in Gotham?"

"Batman," Helena answered, at the same time I said, "Me".

She turned to look at me.

I smiled.

"You runt," she said, glaring at me. A second later, she sighed, taking her gaze to the ceiling as she rested her head on the platform she was on. "Well, you'd have figured it out eventually. I basically gave you all you needed back at the warehouse."

"A man named Titus is causing chaos in Hub City, and I'm guessing Helena came here to ask for help. The Question pestered her into coming," I said, explaining to Alfred, "and Batman must have agreed to go. On one condition, of course."

"That I watched after Tim," Helena finished.

"Yep."

"Ah," Alfred said, simply.

"Speaking of," I turned to Helena. "When did he say he was going to get back?"

Helena took her time to answer.

"You'll know, when I'm gone."

I raised an eyebrow at that, but chose not to question it.

Getting into the series of confrontations between them that could only barely be described as a 'relationship' wasn't the brightest idea.

"Which reminds me," I continued, "I got the blood of the guy that attacked us on my glove. I'll get to running a blood test soon. Gonna need to analyze the sample first, make sure that none of _my_ DNA got mixed in it, before I give it to the GCPD to run through their database. Though, knowing how they feel about us, I guess it'll be faster if I just hacked into their database and did the analyzing on my own, seeing that-"

" _Master Tim._ "

"- we have the equipment right here. That plan gives the added bonus of me not having to check for my DNA, or having to isolate what I-"

"Master Tim."

I stopped, blinking at Alfred.

"I will do the analyzing," he said, not looking at me. He was nearly done with Helena's leg, just beginning to wrap the bandages around her calf. " _You_ will get cleaned up, dressed for the night, and go to your room. You _are_ returning to your boarding school tomorrow, if I remember correctly, sir."

 _Right. That._

I glanced at my uncovered hands. My red, burned hands.

"What story will explain this away? I… guess I'll need a new chemistry set?"

"Attaboy," Helena said in her usual, slightly mocking, tone.

"Goodnight, Master Tim."

"Goodnight, Alfred," I said, and then I made my way to the Manor.

* * *

Somehow, Stephanie had managed to get my personal phone number. Again. My phone was on the bed, buzzing with texts by the time I'd gotten out of the shower and switched it on.

I made a mental note to find out how exactly she kept doing that. I had theories, definitely, but I wanted something definite.

I quickly saved her number and instantly scrolled down to the latest set of texts, toweling my hair with my free hand.

 **Steph** :

 _Hey. Where hv u been_

 _Im sure everything over there will be okay for just 1 day_

 _Cass says hi_

I sighed, loudly.

Cass. I hadn't seen her in weeks. I hadn't seen the team in weeks. Things had gotten annoyingly busy in Gotham, with the unexplained rise in organized crime in the past month. The fact that the school holidays were over wasn't helping in that regard, and I had to deal with zipping between life as Robin and life as Tim Drake at a level I just wasn't prepared to deal with.

It was all just feeling… overwhelming.

I quickly typed out a reply.

 **Me** :

 _How did you get this number?_

 **Steph** :

 _Thank god you replied. Okay theres been talk about a masked party coming up_

Masked party. That was code for an undercover operation.

 **Me** :

 _Really? Good Luck, then._

 _Tell the guys I said hi._

 _And, how did you get this number?_

 **Steph** :

 _Youre not coming?_

 **Me** :

 _School_.

 **Steph** :

 _Youre not being serious rn_

 _Are you out?_

 **Me** :

 _No, just got in. Helena's here, and she got hurt. We both did, actually. Plus, it's late. And raining._

 **Steph** :

 _Haha. Goodnight._

 **Me** :

 _Wait, are you out?_

Several minutes went by without a reply, so I gently tossed the phone to the side, sighing again as I fell back on the bed. It felt nice, relaxing my aching body on the expensive and surprisingly soft bed covers, even as I stared at the ceiling, my mind tracing back to the last moments back at the warehouse.

 _"Pathetic."_

My eyes still on the ceiling, I reached for the top of the desk drawer next to the bed.

 _"Your moves are textbook. Slow. Easily avoidable."_

My fingers brushed against the handle of the knife I'd taken from the masked copycat.

 _"Did you bother improving yourself past anything **he** taught you?"_

I hadn't turned on my lights, so the room was illuminated by the combined glow from my phone and the subdued light from the moon, casting eerie shadows onto the walls and the floor. Like the rest of the house, the room had the same oak floors, wooden panelling and heavy oak furniture. Alfred had offered to carpet the floors with a nice, thick rug, but I had declined. The cold, hard feeling beneath my feet served to remind me to not get too comfortable in the room.

After all, it wasn't really _mine_.

Exactly because of that, I'd made sure to not bring too many personal items whenever I stayed over in Wayne Manor.

I turned my head to the side.

A beautiful wooden desk rested under the large window which overlooked the front yard, directly opposite the bed. To the left sat a bookcase, bare, and a wardrobe stood opposite _that_ , empty.

Nothing in there was really mine.

Nothing in there was mine because I had intentionally kept my things away from the room. It was my idea not to move in.

The room wasn't really mine, after all.

Logically, I shouldn't have been feeling the way I was. Bitter. Angry.

 _"Pathetic."_

Why does what he said bother me so much, I wondered.

 _"Your moves are textbook."_

I gripped the knife tightly.

 _"Slow. Easily Avoidable."_

Why does-

 _"You runt."_

I forced my eyes shut, slightly grimacing.

 _"That I watched over Tim."_

 _"Pathetic."_

 _"Goodnight, Master Tim."_

 _Pathetic._

 _After everything… They still treat me like…_

 _"Attaboy."_

 _Like…_

"I'm ridiculous," I said, to my empty room.

 _Breathe… Breathe…_

 _Okay._

I got up, slid off Jason's bed, and crouched down.

Supplies. I stuck an arm under the bed and pulled my secondary utility belt from underneath the bed. I had neglected to update the inventory, so it wasn't as prepped and ready as my primary arsenal was, but it would have to do. I displayed its contents on my bed sheets and took note of what _exactly_ I had.

After a couple of seconds, I confirmed that the mental picture I'd kept of the belt's contents the last time I touched it matched up with what was actually there: two dozen collapsible batarangs of different varieties; three bolas attached to the belt, rather than hidden in its pockets; fifteen tracers; about a dozen smoke pellets; a dozen glue bombs; an instant tightrope line launcher; two artificial gills, a laser and a taser; napalm, explosive gel, and three stun and thermite grenades.

Knowing I wasn't going to be using my stealth suit, as the explosion had ruined the fabric and left the material uncomfortable to wear, I settled for my normal Robin suit. I had a spare, under a panel on the floor in case the Batcave was unaccessible, and I was quick to throw it on.

Uncertainty gnawed at me. If I was going to look for Titus, I needed help. Helena had been tracking him for a while, and she hadn't really made any headway. What could I, someone who had just heard of him barely two hours ago, do to get a breakthrough where The Huntress hadn't?

I pressed my lips into a line. My mind was wandering towards a dangerous place.

Batman typically didn't appreciate it when I did that.

I reached for my phone. I had already decided, I knew that much. I knew I was going to do it, even before the thought fully blossomed in my head.

Did that mean I was weak? That I couldn't do it alone?

It didn't matter. I'd deal with my demons later.

 _Breathe in… Breathe out…_

Uncertainty.

Not because I was unsure of what I wanted to do.

No. I had already made the decision. I'd been fighting Gotham's crime for two years, now, and I'd long learned that second-guessing yourself was a mistake.

I was uncertain because I didn't know _how_ to do it. How to broach the topic to the Team.

I'd been ignoring them for months, now. If they refused me asking for help, I wouldn't have been able to force them. And, I'd been away for too long to effectively manipulate them… Not that I would have, anyway. The thing was that they _were_ going to agree. I knew that. _They_ knew that.

I reached for my phone, and I paused.

No second-guessing.

Heroes _acted_. There was a copy-cat vigilante and a terrorist group running around Batm-

 _"Attaboy."_

Running around _my_ city.

I needed to nip that in the bud.

I picked up my phone, pulled up Bart's number.

And then I hesitated.

I stopped, pulling my thumb away from the 'call' icon.

Was this the right call? Calling the Team?

It would pull the League's attention, and then they'd put in their input. It would wrest control away from me, introduce bigger, badder threats to the criminals in Gotham, and, eventually, Batman and Robin just wouldn't be scary enough to make as much of an impact as they used to.

I couldn't let that hap-

I gripped my phone tight, and a smile snaked its way across my lips, against my better judgement.

Uncertainty.

Now, I was uncertain. I overthought, like I always did, and now I was uncertain.

That same think screwed me up earlier, against Titus' men. I overestimated them instead of attacking, and Helena got hurt.

It was a problem.

I was sure that I would be able to fix it, just like I would be able to fix the Titus issue.

And, the man in the Red Hood.

I tried to stand up. My head hurt, and my eyelids felt heavy.

I had school tomorrow.

 _Titus…_

Alfred said-

 _"You runt."_

 _I just…_

My eyes began to droop close. I was aware of it, and I could have stopped it, but I didn't.

I fell onto my bed. _Jason's_ bed. Exhausted.

My phone rang. I ignored it.

* * *

 ** _A/N_** : **_Identity Crisis. A teenager wanting to prove himself, especially when compared to his team of super-powered demigods or his amazing predecessors. Desperate to do anything, even blatantly lying to and working himself to exhaustion. We've all been there, right?_**


End file.
